The Watcher
by Nevermore
Summary: BtVS Spinoff: A young woman in upstate New York deals with the oppressive burden of being a Slayer... but she doesn't do so alone. Work in Progress stalled as I work more on BSG.
1. Prologue

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**Author's Note:** This is a spin-off idea I had awhile back, maybe early on during the final BtVS season. I was hoping that this is the direction in which ME would go, but thus far it seems they're letting these characters ride off into the sunset. Far be it from me to emulate the possible wisdom of Whedon et al.

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**The Watcher**

by

**Nevermore**

**Prologue**

Janna pulled her pillow closer over her ears, attempting to drown out the sounds of her parents arguing in the kitchen. Unfortunately, the kitchen was located directly beneath her room, so she was meeting with little success. She wished she could turn on her stereo, just crank the volume until there was no way to hear herself, much less her parents. But she knew enough to realize that blasting Limp Bizkit would only make her situation worse – her parents had reached the end of their respective ropes trying to deal with her sudden "rebellious phase." What was worse, they'd taken the unprecedented step of calling for outside assistance.

Almost as if fate was toying with her, Janna heard the doorbell ring. The heavy chime resounded through the old Victorian home, each clang of the bells turning her stomach over the slightest bit. _The doctor,_ she cursed silently. _Like I need a doctor. There's nothing wrong with me. Why am I the only one who realizes that there's nothing different?_

Despite her desire to ignore everything that was going on downstairs, Janna found herself straining to hear every sound, every word. _The doctor._ This was the last thing she needed right now.

"Hello, doctor," she heard her mother say as she pulled the front door open. It was her "Mrs. van der Haas, Upstanding Pillar of Society" voice. It was the voice Janna hated, perhaps the only thing about her mother that she truly hated. She remembered having asked her mother about it when she'd been a child. They were at a restaurant for something – she was reasonably certain it was her father's birthday, but maybe it had been Father's Day – and Mr. And Mrs. Royce from down the block had stopped by their table to say hello and coo over Janna's sister, Melanie, who was still a newborn at the time. Janna had noticed her mother's voice switch from the caring, motherly voice she'd always used around the house. She was suddenly louder, more energetic, and she seemed to settle a constant smile on her face. As Janna grew up she came to realize that this was the façade her mother always wore in public, but that day she'd been left completely confused as her mother appeared to instantly become a different person.

As soon as Mr. And Mrs. Royce had walked away (even at the age of three Janna had understood that there was a time and place to ask questions, and neither of them was while her parents were speaking to other grownups… she momentarily abandoned her reverie to wonder when she'd decided to disregard that lesson), Janna had asked her mother why she sounded different speaking to other grownups. Her mother had simply answered that grownups spoke to each other differently than they spoke to children.

Janna suddenly realized that perhaps learning that different mode of speaking would have helped her avoid her recent troubles. Ever since the morning of the accident she'd been accused of being willful, disobedient, disruptive, and even (her own mother somehow gasped as she accused Janna) of being a juvenile delinquent.

_And none of it was ever my fault,_ Janna seethed. _Why can't anyone ever see that? At what point did they all stop giving me the benefit of the doubt?_

"My, you _are_ young," her mother said ever so politely to the doctor. "You're a doctor?"

"Not exactly," an unfamiliar voice replied. "I've spent years studying, but I have yet to perform my internship, as it were." Janna could hear a significant degree of self-doubt in the man's voice. _Insecure and also not really a doctor,_ she noted. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

"And you're not English," her father commented bluntly, almost accusatorily. Janna almost laughed at her father's words. He'd been telling – assuring, actually – everyone he knew that he and his wife had a handle on Janna's recent problems. He explained that they'd contacted a European foundation that specialized in young women with Janna's problem. _Whatever problem that is…_ Her father had used the uncomfortable embarrassment of her behavior to somehow further their own image by going to the expense of retaining the services of a _European_ foundation. Janna almost giggled as she listened to her father try to figure out he'd ended up with a young American who wasn't even a doctor yet.

"Well, our foundation has recently lost many of its members," the young man explained. "There was a… fire… at our headquarters, and unfortunately many of our most distinguished people were killed."

"Oh, that's awful," Janna's mom responded, predictably inserting the absolutely perfect combination of pity and horror at the thought.

"And then recent events have led us to identify several recent cases of girls with…" his voice trailed off as he seemed to search for the proper diplomatic word. Janna almost felt sorry for the non-doctor. No on really deserved the fate of unexpectedly being grilled by her parents. "With this problem," he finally forced out.

"Yes, of course," Janna's father muttered. "So you're not a doctor."

"No, sir."

"But you've studied in Europe?"

"Not exactly," the young man answered. Janna literally bit her lip to suppress a whoop of joy. She hadn't expected this to be fun.

"Not exactly?" Her father was definitely starting to get irritated. He could imagine what he'd be saying later. _"They shouldn't be suggesting that they provide European doctors, not when they have inexperienced Americans working for them. If I wanted inexperienced Americans, all I'd have to do is step outside. There're lots of them about. I want the best for my daughter, and they aren't delivering what they promised."_

"I studied in California," the young man said.

"Berkeley?"

"No."

"Stanford?"

"You see, most of my education came in the field, not in a classroom," the young man explained.

"I don't understand," her father muttered. "Are you saying you haven't gone to college?"

"Not as such."

"Then how in god's name are you a doctoral candidate?" he father roared. "Just what kind of operation are you people running, anyway?"

"If you would allow me to explain…"

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," her father seethed.

"You see, our foundation doesn't simply recruit academics, people with no real-world experience," he said. "While I wasn't in college, I _was_ studying under one of our most distinguished teachers, and he was working with a particularly noteworthy case. I learned more in the real world than I ever would have learned in a classroom, and I _am_ considered one of the top people in the field."

"Is that so?" her father challenged.

"It is." _Guy seemed to have grown a backbone all of a sudden,_ Janna noticed. She wished she'd been downstairs – she would have loved to see the look on her father's face. She could imagine the creased look on his brow, the stare he would have settled on their guest. She could almost feel the waves of anger rolling off her father, she could almost--

"Janna, come down here!" she heard her mother yell impatiently. She recognized another of her mother's many voices – the disciplinarian. She instinctively knew that her mother must have called her several times already, and that she was somehow so lost in thought that she hadn't heard her.

"Coming!" she yelled as she stood up and checked herself in the mirror. _Just in case he's cute,_ she told herself. _After all, he's apparently pretty young._

She bounded down the stairs two at a time, then tore around the banister post and through the parlor, arriving at the front door and setting her gaze on the doctor. _Or not,_ she corrected herself. _I guess he's actually just the professional, or something. But not a doctor._

"This is Janna," he mother said with a wave in her direction. Janna looked at the man, skimming over his well-developed frame and sleek dark hair, settling immediately on the eye patch that reminded her of any number of pirates she'd seen in late-night B-movies. "And Janna, this is Doctor… ahhhhh… _Mr_. Harris."

"Hi," Janna muttered, still unable to tear her gaze away from the eye patch. "I mean, umm… hi, Mr. Harris."

"Call me Xander," he corrected her. "Just Xander is okay for now."

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	2. Welcome to the Fold

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

"Vampire: The Masquerade" and "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" are owned by White Wolf Publishing. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights.

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**Author's Note:** Above you can see the additional disclaimers referencing the intellectual property of White Wolf Publishing. The only thing I've really used is the word Delirium, which refers to a concept already used in BtVS but which never received a name. I've now borrowed the name from WW, and I believe in giving credit where credit is due. For anyone who knows of WW's WoD, don't expect any expansion into that fandom, as it doesn't fit what I have planned. This is a Buffy-verse fic, not a WoD fic or any form of cross-over.

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**I – Welcome to the Fold**

"Hi, Xander," Janna muttered awkwardly. Xander noticed that she, like just about everyone else, was thrown off-guard by the eye patch. She wanted to look at it, try to figure out why he wore it, whether it was for show or if there was really some kind of hideous injury… but she was polite enough not to stare.

"Hi," Xander offered as pleasantly as he could. He looked the girl over closely, starting with her raven black hair, the green eyes, pale skin, and her short yet extremely athletic frame. She was doubtless involved in some kind of sports in her high school. "Don't worry about staring at the eye patch," he added with a broad smile. "You're supposed to look at it. People make eye contact all the time, don't feel you have to avert your eyes just because one of mine is covered. I'm totally fine with it."

"Okay," Janna responded, immediately turning her gaze back on Xander.

"But please don't stare, dear," he mother implored her. "That's ever so rude."

"That's okay," Xander assured the woman.

"So what happens now?" Janna's father asked.

"Now Janna and I have to talk a bit," Xander answered. "I'm getting an office furnished even as we speak, but for now if we maybe just go for a walk…"

"Go for a walk?" he father asked. "Isn't that a little…"

"Informal?" Xander offered.

"I was going to say unusual, but I suppose informal would work just as well."

"Look, I'm not here to have Janna lean back on a couch and tell me about her childhood while I get with the psych babble mumbo jumbo," Xander explained plainly, as much for Janna's benefit as for her parents'. "I'm here to understand. I'm here to help her work through her issues."

"Look, I don't have any issues," Janna interrupted.

"_Everyone_ has issues," Xander assured her. "I have them, your parents have them, and you have them. Don't try to assure me that you're all fine and normal, because I have yet to see anyone who fits that description. I haven't even met anyone who can provide that description. My purpose is just to help you put things in perspective, to help you figure out what kind of person you want to be as you grow up."

"Oh really?" Janna asked standoffishly, crossing her arms as she engaged in a staring contest with Xander's outnumbered eye.

"Really."

"Why don't you just go for a walk, dear," Janna's mom suggested. "It can't hurt anything."

"Fine," Janna huffed. She pushed past Xander and out into the bright August sun. In the blink of an eye she plowed past him again back into the house, grabbed her sunglasses from a table just inside the door, then practically knocked him over as she bowled past him a third time.

"We'll be back in an hour," Xander muttered as he walked down the sidewalk after the teen.

"So where are we walking?" Janna asked.

"You decide."

"Is this one of your tests?" Janna asked suspiciously. "Is it like, if I walk toward the sun I must be happy because I want the warmth on my face, and I'm depressed if I put the sun on my back and instead concentrate on my shadow?"

"What?!" Xander replied. "Look, I told you – I'm not here to do the psych stuff. Stop being suspicious of me. I just moved into town – I don't know my way around. That's the only reason I offered to have you lead the way. Jeez…"

They walked silently for almost fifteen minutes before Jana spoke again. "Let me guess, now you're getting all Good Will Hunting on me, waiting until I start the discussion?"

"Sorta," Xander admitted. To be honest, he had no idea what to say… or more to the point, how to say what he knew needed to be said. Buffy had told him how Giles had confronted her with the news of his being her new Watcher, and how Merrick had first told her of what she was. Neither had made a very good impression on her. He hoped he could do better. At the very least, he knew he wouldn't use Giles' tactic of handing her a book with "Vampyr" written on it.

"So what am I supposed to talk about? You want me talk about the accident?"

"Seems like as good a place as any," Xander answered. "Your parents told me you were going to work that morning."

"Yeah, summer vacation had just started, and I was driving to the McD's. I got this really weird feeling, almost like the most kick-ass adrenaline rush ever, and right at that moment a deer jumped out in front of me."

"So you swerved and crashed."

"Yeah, wrapped my car around a tree," Janna cursed angrily. "Now I lost my wheels… damn insurance company is only givin' me blue book value, so it's gonna be months before I can afford another car. My parents were talking about helping me out, saying they'd buy me a car of my choice as long as it was something safer than my old Camaro, but lately they haven't been willing to be very generous."

"Because of your behavior," Xander surmised.

"Yeah." Janna kicked a stone that was in her path, almost looking like she was trying to decide how much to say. Xander expected her to clam up for the rest of their walk, but she suddenly launched into the rest of the story.

"See, I almost died because of the accident," Janna explained. "Doctors said I should have died, actually… my parents showed up at the hospital thinking they were gonna be saying goodbye to me. They don't know how I survived – they said it was some kind of medical miracle. I was out of the hospital less than a week later, fully healed. Freaked them right the hell out, actually. I think the doctors were sorta happy to get rid of me.

"Anyway, ever since then things have been different. I tried to explain it to my parents, but they don't want to listen. They just see the stuff I've been getting in trouble for, and they don't want to hear any excuses. That's always been their thing – when I did something bad as a kid, I found my punishment was far less if I owned up to what I did wrong. Now they think I'm trying to make excuses, when that's really not what's going on."

"It must be rough," Xander commented.

"It's unfair, is what it is. It's not like I'm making up stories, see? I'm trying to tell them what happened. I'm trying to make them understand that I never did anything wrong in the first place; but they just don't want to hear it. Every time something new happens, it just makes it worse."

"Why don't you give me an example?"

"Well, like there was this party I was at a few nights after I got home," Janna began. It was out in the woods because, well, you know…"

"Drinking, smoking, probably a little sex," Xander guessed. "I wasn't a teenager all that long ago."

"Right, you get it," Janna replied, surprising Xander with how quickly she accepted him as someone to hear truths she likely spent most of her time hiding from other adults. "Anyway, there were a bunch of us out there, and these…" Her voice trailed off suddenly, and Xander assumed she was trying to find the right words to continue. Almost a full minute had gone by when he realized she'd decided to keep quiet about the whole thing.

"These what?" he asked. She didn't answer. "Let me guess, a group of people showed up," he offered. She nodded. "Probably three or four of 'em, none of them invited. You guys probably didn't know them."

"Right."

"And things started getting weird," Xander guessed. "You noticed something was different about them… something was wrong with them." Janna looked at him strangely, almost aghast, but nodded all the same. "It was their faces," Xander said.

"Oh my God," she muttered, stopping dead in her tracks. "How do you know that? I never told anyone that. Well, I tried to tell my parents, but they didn't want to hear it. I'd been busted by the cops for drinking and fighting, and they hardly wanted to hear that there'd been a gang there. Forget the fact that they--"

"--had fangs," Xander finished for her. "Forget the fact that they were vampires."

Janna could only stare at Xander, her mind apparently stuck in the moment between surprise and reaction. "Janna?" he asked. "You okay?"

"I think I'm gonna puke," she muttered miserably, her body still as granite.

"We should probably keep moving," Xander suggested. "I don't think you want to be standing still for too long… someone might overhear more than they're supposed to." Janna nodded and started walking, but something in her eyes looked vacant, detached. Xander decided to let her work things through in her head… he remembered meeting Buffy and finding out about vampires. It'd all taken a little getting used to.

"So they _were_ vampires," Janna finally concluded, as if she'd been reviewing the memory in her head for several minutes and was finally ready to accept Xander's conclusion.

"Yeah. Vampires."

"So…" She seemed at a loss for words. "So are you here to kill them? Are you like Anthony Hopkins in Dracula?"

"Let me see if I can explain," Xander offered. "How much are you ready to hear?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have to know I'm not here because of what you saw," he told her. "Well, not totally anyway. I'm here because of _you_. Your parents contacted the foundation, and we responded. We've been expecting to find someone like you out here."

"I don't understand."

_Where the hell do I start?_ Xander asked himself. _There's so much to say, and I'm not sure if she's ready for it all…_ "Okay, let me try to sum up for you. First of all, you've seen vampires. You're ready to accept that they exist, right?"

"Yeah, I'm with ya so far."

"Good. All right, vampires are demons. They used to be human, but when they were turned into vampires, the human soul was set free from the body and replaced by a demonic entity."

"If you say so."

"Now here's the part where you come in – just as there are dark powers, some would say evil powers, there are also forces of light, or good."

"What do you mean?"

"You're what's referred to as a Slayer. As long as there have been demons on Earth, there has been the Slayer to oppose them."

"_The_ Slayer? What do you mean? Am I the only one?" All of the patient, thoughtful understanding seemed to be draining from Janna's demeanor as she gave more thought to what Xander was saying.

"No," he corrected quickly. "At least, that's not how it is anymore. Or maybe it is. There're a couple of competing theories on that."

"Theories?" Janna asked. "You mean you don't even know what's going on? You don't know what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Xander said quickly. "On the very morning of your accident, something magical happened. Something amazing. You were born as what we refer to as a Potential, a woman who could one day become a Slayer. Not all Potentials became Slayers… until that morning. Just moments before your accident you became a Slayer. Injuries that should have killed you healed almost of their own accord."

"And that's why I'm stronger," Janna surmised.

"Yeah, you're stronger. You're also faster, more coordinated… and as you've seen, you're immune to what some people call the Delirium."

"The what?"

"The Delirium," Xander explained. "When you go out and get into these fights, what you have to understand is that your memory of events will be different than other people's. You see, people don't want to accept some of the things they see; humans are creatures of reason. They believe the world has certain immutable rules, and when inexplicable things happen, people have a tendency to warp their own memories to explain it all away. Like at your party in the woods – I'll bet everyone else remembered just a normal gang. If they remembered anything strange about the gang, they probably attributed it to drug use – probably PCP. Their minds alter those memories so that they make sense, so that they conform to what we understand to be the 'real world.'

"Of course, you're still you as far as most people are concerned, so memories of you don't get altered. So at the party, everyone clearly remembers you getting into a fight with members of a local gang. Ergo, you're suddenly seen as a gang member when in fact you were saving your friends from a pack of vampires."

"But those people have known me my entire life," Janna objected. "They wouldn't just think that I've become a gang member… that makes no sense."

"It makes more sense than accepting that vampires – and by extension most other things that we were taught as kids don't exist – are actually real. They made a subconscious choice, and chose to believe that you're a bad seed. It's easier."

"That's not fair."

"It's all subconscious, Janna. They didn't choose to demonize you in their minds, it just happened that way. And you can expect it to continue, too. That's why you have to learn to be careful, to conceal your gifts."

"Like Spider-man," Janna replied. "And gee, that movie really ended on an uplifting note, didn't it? So I'm expected to pretty much isolate myself?"

"Yes and no," Xander answered noncommittally. "You'll get the hang of that as you go along."

"So is that it?" Janna asked.

"No, actually… that's just the beginning."

"So get with the rest of it."

"I think our hour's up," Xander said, looking at his watch. "We should get you back home."

"No," Janna answered. "I don't want to go back home yet. I want answers."

"And you'll have them," Xander assured her. "Just remember what we were talking about. People are going to be seeing you differently now. If you want to retain some kind of a socially acceptable reputation you're gonna have to toe the line. We're meeting for an hour today, so that's all we're gonna do. I'm meeting with your parents tonight, and I'll discuss this all with them then."

"You're gonna tell them this Slayer bit?" Janna asked. "You just left me with more questions than I had before talking with you, and now you're gonna give them the answers first?"

"I'm not telling your parents anything about the Slayer bit," Xander answered immediately. "Maybe someday that's something that might come up, but right now they're not ready for it. They'll have to reach that conclusion slowly, and probably only of their own accord. You have to give it time."

"Fine," Janna grumbled. "But when will you tell me the rest?"

"As soon as I can," Xander assured her. "Let me make arrangements with your parents, then we'll talk."

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	3. Basic Metaphysical Laws

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**II – Basic Metaphysical Laws**

"So you're gonna tell me the rest, right?" Janna asked once her mother had walked out the door. Janna ignored her new surroundings – the unadorned, whitewashed walls of Xander's office, the grey rug, and even the cut-rate desk he was sitting behind. All of her attention was riveted on his response.

"Yeah, I'm gonna tell you the rest," Xander assured her. Janna noticed something hesitant in his voice; she knew that he was at least a little reluctant to be put in his position, but she didn't really care. She wanted answers.

"First off, you said something yesterday about expecting to find somebody like me here. What did you mean by that?" Ever since their conversation the previous day, Janna had been replaying Xander's words over and over again in her mind. As far as she was concerned, this was as good a first question as any she'd thought of.

"Okay, have you ever heard of ley lines?"

"Can't say that I have."

"They're mystical lines of power that crisscross the globe," Xander explained, his brow furrowing as if he was trying to recall some of the information himself. "That make sense?"

"I guess," Janna replied.

"I'm gonna answer your question, but it'll be in a real roundabout way," Xander told her. "Try to bear with me. First of all, one of the first things you have to understand is that science and magic don't mix. Back in what we now call ancient times, there wasn't much science or technology, so magic thrived. Sorcerers, demons, witches, vampires, and all the rest were pretty much real, and those people understood mystical energy in a way we can't begin to now. One of the things they understood was these ley lines, and it was at junctions of these lines that they built their places of power – places like Stonehenge, ancient temples, and tombs.

"But inasmuch as magic and science can't co-exist, they do both hold to one basic, immutable rule of the universe – for every action there is a equal and opposite reaction. That's where you come in. Well, sorta."

"What do you mean?" The conversation had already seemed to have two or three complete tangents, and Janna was having a hard time keeping everything straight in her head.

"Okay, well, this town is built on the intersection of two rather strong ley lines," Xander continued. "And beyond that, well… Okay, I guess I have to go into a bit of back-story for you to make this all make sense."

"Go ahead," Janna said with a magnanimous wave of her hand.

"Okay. See, on the morning you became a Slayer, there was a huge spell cast out in California, in a town called Sunnydale."

"Isn't that the town that just fell into a fault line that nobody knew about?" Janna asked. She was certain she'd seen something about that on The Daily Show just a few months earlier – she had the unmistakable image of Stephen Colbert dressed up as a civil engineer, asking southern California politicians how they'd been stupid enough to build a small city in a place where it was inevitable it would get swallowed up into the ground.

"It wasn't a fault," Xander explained. "It was what we call a Hellmouth – an entryway to an alternate dimension. It was located under Sunnydale, and Buffy, the oldest surviving Slayer, closed it. The result was the entire town being destroyed."

"And no one knew anything about it?" Janna asked dubiously.

"Some of the locals knew… at least on some level… and there were some in the government who knew the real reason, but they're not about to tell the American people that an entire town was destroyed as a result of the closure of a mystical portal."

"I could see how some people would have a problem accepting that explanation," Janna joked.

"Anyway, Buffy was faced with The First Evil, a force that has existed before this world, before time itself. It raised an army against her, so she raised an army of her own. She gathered all of the Potentials she could find and used a mystical artifact to unleash the power of the Slayer. Before she did that, there was only ever one Slayer alive at any given time. When that Slayer died, the next was called, and so on through the ages. On that morning – the morning of your accident – Buffy changed that basic magical rule. She fought her battle, and she won. Unfortunately, there were some consequences… some _re_-actions."

"Such as?" Janna did not like the tone in Xander's voice – she had a feeling she wouldn't like what she was about to hear.

"Well, first of all, _every_ Potential was called and became a Slayer. That's caused obvious logistical problems for us, since many of these girls have no idea what they are and are now having all kinds of difficulties."

"Just like me."

"Yup. Even worse, though, is the fact that, as I said before, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. When Buffy had that spell cast, she spontaneously created an army of light here on Earth. Minutes later, the Hellmouth was sealed. The result was so predictable we cursed ourselves for having overlooked it. The forces of light were strengthened – so too must the forces of darkness be. At sunset that night, the ley lines I just told you about burst to life with a surge of mystical energy the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Inquisition.

"This being a conjunction point – what some would call a node – we knew there would be a ton of paranormal activity here. We expected to find a Slayer, and your father contacting the foundation saved us the trouble of looking for you."

"Okay, who's 'us?' " Janna interrupted.

"Watchers," Xander told her. "There's a centuries-old organization known as the Watcher's Council. They were men and women who watched over the Slayer, trained her to face her enemies, taught her what she needed to know, and recorded everything for future reference. Not long ago, the minions of The First destroyed virtually the entire Council. Only a few remained to rebuild the Order, and I was selected as one of their first recruits. I'm an old friend of Buffy-"

"-The vampire slayer," Janna interrupted.

"Yes, the vampire slayer," Xander confirmed. "I fought at her side for seven years, and when the Potentials were all called I volunteered to leave her and train some of the younger ones, teach them the same lessons I saw Buffy learn over the years. There's a lot I don't know," he admitted, "but I'm probably the best of the new Watchers."

"I feel honored."

"I won't be able to teach you all on my own, though," he added. "As much as I've learned about the occult and what it means to be a Slayer, I don't have the combat training to be able to effectively train you to fight demons. There's a guy I know who's also in town – he's another one of the Council's newest recruits – and he'll take care of that part of your training for the time being."

"For the time being?"

"I'm learning combat right now, too," her Watcher explained, "just as I'm teaching the other guy all the book stuff he'll need later on down the line. In time, I'll take over full responsibility for your instruction and training and he'll move along to take on his own Slayer. For now, though, you have two teachers."

"And who's this other guy?"

"You'll meet him in a few minutes. One of the things I talked about with your parents last night is the need for you to take a greater amount of responsibility."

"I'm responsible," Janna objected immediately.

"I know that," Xander said quickly. "But you have to remember that they don't see everything you and I do; they don't understand just how well you've done with the situation you were put in. They have certain expectations – you should fulfill them. One thing your mother mentioned is that you lost your job."

"It seems like every night it became harder and harder to go to sleep," Janna explained. "Now I guess I know why – I'm supposed to be out killing vampires, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, working the morning shift at McD's is pretty much impossible when you've spent the night tromping around in the woods without any idea why you're out there in the first place."

"Understandable," Xander agreed. "I told them I'd encourage you to find a new job, and that's exactly what you're gonna do. When your mother comes to pick you up, have her go next door with you to The Magic Box."

"The Magic Box?"

"It's a new shop we're opening next door. The manager is a man named Graham – he used to be in a secret military unit that hunted down demons. He knows all you'll need to know about fighting these things, and he's gonna hire you on the spot. That'll make your parents happy."

"A magic store? I don't think they'll like that," Janna responded dubiously.

"Graham makes a very good first impression now that he's a civilian," her Watcher assured her. "Trust me – go inside to fill out an application. He'll hire you, and you'll have a job that's very accommodating to your extracurricular activities."

"Fine," Janna agreed.

To be continued………………………………………… 


	4. Help Wanted

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**III – Help Wanted**

Janna wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected when she walked into The Magic Box, but she had to admit that she wasn't too surprised by what she found. The bizarre (monkey's paws, eyes of newt, and shrunken heads) mingled with the predictable (a rack full of crystal balls, various candles and incenses, and star charts) and the academic (rows upon rows of books). The front room had a vaguely musty smell that Janna attributed to the plethora of obviously old tomes, though there was a definite undercurrent of spices, most notably cinnamon and cumin. She stepped lightly from the entryway and began to look around, noticing that besides herself and her plainly uneasy mother, there was only one other person present.

The other customer was an old woman, slightly stooped over and dressed in the bright, distracting colors of a carnival fortune-teller. Janna immediately recognized Mrs. Jacoby, the "gypsy" who ran the tarot reading shop at the end of Main St. Tourists visiting from the big cities sought her services all through the summer and swore by her uncanny abilities, honed, they claimed, in the secret temples of Czechoslovakia (parts of which were formerly Transylvania). Janna had always found it funny – she went to school with Mrs. Jacoby's granddaughter and knew for a fact the woman had grown up in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and had never been outside the northeast, no less the country.

"I don't know if this is the right kind of place for you to work," Janna's mom muttered, clearly keeping her voice low enough to prevent Mrs. Jacoby from overhearing her. She knew it just wouldn't be proper to offend anyone who might believe in this new age stuff, no matter how inane she herself thought it was.

"It's sorta cool, actually," Janna answered, deciding to take a closer look at a glass jar filled with slightly opaque, pink crystals.

"Hi, can I help you?" a man's voice called out as a young man – Janna assumed it was Graham – stepped out from a curtained room behind the register.

"Uh, yeah… what are these for?" Janna asked, pointing to the jar.

"For eating," Graham answered with a smile. "It's rock candy."

Janna giggled, but her mother remained focused on the task that had brought them inside. "You work here, then?" she asked ever so politely.

"Yes, I'm the manager," Graham answered.

"You don't happen to be hiring, are you?" Janna asked immediately, before her mother could somehow sabotage Xander's plan. Part of her wondered why she was so willing to follow along with all of this. She'd never really believed in magic… or even ghosts, for that matter. She'd been raised to be very well grounded, believing only that which was provable. As a child she'd learned to laugh at stories about Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, and the Bermuda Triangle while all of her friends were completely in awe of the world's unexplained mysteries. Now here she was accepting that she was a vampire slayer while she looked for a job in a magic shop.

"Well, as a matter of fact we _are_ hiring," Graham answered, "though since we just opened I don't know what kind of hours I could offer you."

"Well my daughter will be in school in just a couple of weeks," Mrs. van der Haas explained, smiling as she absent-mindedly brushed her hair back with a flourish that caught Janna's attention. _Oh god, don't tell me my mother's flirting._

"You're daughter…" Graham muttered, almost as if he was tempted to say he was surprised that a woman who looked like Janna's mom could have a daughter Janna's age. He kept the comment to himself, though, and Janna thought the restraint was somehow even more effective than lobbing out a cliché compliment. As absurd as the situation seemed to her, though, she found her mother definitely seemed comfortable around the shop owner. _Xander was right,_ Janna decided, _Graham makes a good first impression._ "Well, a few hours on weekdays might work out well," Graham commented, "along with maybe a few hours on the weekends. It's likely that the high school crowd will be some of our biggest customers – they always are, you know – so when school starts up the early evening and weekends'll be when I'd need the most help, anyway."

"So you cater to high school children?" Janna's mom asked, her tone suddenly suspicious. Janna knew that voice well – it's the same one her mother had used when she talked about Mitch Robbins – the son of some of the family's Bed and Breakfast's yearly customers – playing D&D. Mrs. van der Haas had the same well-developed mistrust of the occult that all Catholic school educated adults had.

"Well, you know how it is," Graham replied with a conspiratorial wink. "Mood rings, magic eight balls, ouija boards for slumber parties… and you know what, these crystals are a huge seller," he added, pointing to another glass jar that was filled with small, multi-colored beads.

"What are those for?" Janna's mom asked.

"Well, lots of things, actually," Graham explained evasively, "but teenage girls happen to love gluing them onto various clothing items, and that's why they move so well."

"Is that so?" Mrs. van der Haas asked, smiling once again.

"It's a business, you have to know the customer," the manager answered. "Sure, lots of this stuff was seen as magical back in the day, but this is the 21st century. See those up there?" he asked, pointing to some old, cracked-leather-bound books on a shelf on the second story of the store. "Those are supposedly old spellbooks containing curses and various other witchcraft stuff. And you know who buys them?"

"Do tell," Janna's mom asked, back to her anti-occult voice.

"Historians and linguists, mostly," Graham answered. "Historians are always looking for references to centuries-old mysteries, and those handwritten books are considered original sources. The linguists, on the other hand, are always hoping that one of the books will contain phonetic pronunciations of some of the Latin terms, since no one alive knows exactly how Latin was pronounced back in Roman times. Oh, and you know what, there was a writer who special-ordered some of my oldest books a few years ago… he was writing some kind of Blair Witch rip-off movie and wanted to incorporate some genuine-sounding magic mumbo jumbo."

"Magic mumbo jumbo?" Mrs. van der Haas asked.

"You know, the spells and such," Graham answered.

"So you don't believe in any of this?"

"Never saw a woman flying around on a broom," he quipped. "I'm not gonna pull a Mr. Dursley and refuse to even hear the word magic – especially with the profit margin stores like this have – but you won't find me dancing naked around a cauldron on the solstice, either." That bit put it over the top – Janna's mom was grinning broadly again.

"Well thank you for your candor," she said graciously. "So is there an application or something…"

"I haven't written one up yet," Graham admitted. "This is actually just our first day open here. Umm… what's your name?" he asked Janna.

"Janna van der Haas," she answered, stifling a giggle when Mrs. Jacoby let out a shriek when she realized the rubber snake she was holding wasn't a rubber snake.

"Please don't handle the animals without some supervision," Graham called out casually, as if he was used to getting that response from customers. "Well Janna, why don't you come by around noon tomorrow. I'll have you fill out some kind of information sheet. You know the deal – address, phone number, social security number. You'll also need to bring a photo I.D. and some kind of proof of citizenship, either a social security card or birth certificate. We'll fill out the paperwork and get you shown around, how's that?"

"Sounds great."

"I can only start you at minimum for now, but if business gets good, our company always remembers the employees who've been with us longest."

"You're a company?" Mrs. van der Haas asked.

"Well, we used to have just one store in Sunnydale, California," Graham answered. "But when there was that earthquake and the whole town fell into the fault, the owner opened a new store in Cleveland. Then he got the idea of franchising. This is the third store – we're in Cleveland, L.A., and now here."

"This isn't exactly like your other markets," she commented.

"People are people," Graham answered with a grin, "and we go where we think there'll be demand. This seemed like a good place."

"I see."

"Oh, and in the interest of plying my wares, you'll be able to enjoy your daughter's employee discount," Graham added.

"I don't think…"

"For our spices, I mean… in case you cook a lot," he explained. "We doubtlessly have the freshest spices in the area, and we get some of the best in the world. Oh, and we also carry Blue Hawaiian coffee. That's probably a little hard to find around here." Janna thought that last bit was the perfect touch, especially given her mother's preoccupation with the Bed and Breakfast.

"That all sounds very interesting," Janna's mom commented, seeming increasingly convinced that Graham was just a normal businessman and not a closet occultist waiting to corrupt her daughter with the subtle influences of Satan. As much as she tried to control herself, Janna could hardly wait to come back the next day.

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	5. A Late Night Stroll

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**IV – A Late Night Stroll**

Janna awoke with a start, immediately thankful that she could still see everything in her room despite the pitch darkness. _Enhanced nightvision…_ she thought happily. _It's good to be the Slayer._ It only took a few moments to banish her fears and calm her nerves. _It was only a dream,_ she told herself.

Then she heard it – a low, moaning howl from far off, barely detectable. _It's just the wind,_ she told herself. _Go back to sleep._ She leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes again, trying to will herself back asleep. Her mind had just started to drift when she heard the noise again, closer this time. She was out of her bed and on her feet in an instant, walking over to her window and peering out into the night. Again she heard the howl – there was no mistaking it.

From far off she heard a second, deeper howl seeming to answer. "Now what?" Janna asked herself, weighing the merits of going outside or returning to bed. She chuckled at the question, wondering at how her life seemed almost surreal lately. "Just a few months ago I wouldn't even be thinking about going out there. Damn Slayer crap…"

Silent as a shadow, she went to her closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from the top shelf, then slipped into a pair of tennis shoes. _Out the window, or downstairs and out the back door?_ she wondered. She'd never really been comfortable with heights, but she also knew that leaving her room would greatly increase the chances of waking up her parents or her sister.

"Well, if I'm gonna keep going out like this, I'd better get used to the window," she decided. She opened the window a little more and climbed out onto the ledge. A few tentative steps brought her to a trellis, and she carefully picked her way down, hoping the whole time that the wood was stronger than it looked. Once she was on the ground, she sprinted past the empty guest house – now the van der Haas B&B – toward the tree line at the back of her parents' property, hearing the higher-pitched howl again just as she reached the woods.

Her family's home sat on a forty-acre property, most of which was dominated by the vineyard. Sprinting back through the rows of grapevines, reveling at how fast she was moving and how she wasn't tiring at all, she quickly arrived at a narrow country road at the bottom of the property. On the other side of that was Deer Ledge Park, a state park that stretched for miles. Janna had no doubt that the howls she'd heard were coming from in there.

As if in answer to her thoughts, the howl erupted again, much closer this time. A moment later she heard the far-off sounds of someone – or something – crashing through the underbrush. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her legs suddenly felt weak. _What the hell am I doing?_ she asked herself, the rational part of her mind deciding to point out that, if there was a pack of wolves in the woods, this was not the best place for her to be.

_I'm a Slayer,_ she thought stoically, finding the idea amusing. She almost felt like a character from a movie or book, standing off against some kind of unseen magical threat. _Okay, so you're the Slayer,_ she argued with herself, deciding to play Devil's Advocate._ Exactly what part of that description either requires or qualifies you to go traipsing around the woods in the middle of the night, looking for wolves? And what the hell are wolves doing around here, anyway? This is New York State. There haven't been wolves this far south in over a century._

"No! Stay away!" a man shouted from the dark forest ahead. Some primal part of her mind reacted, launching her body back into motion through the underbrush as she raced to help someone in trouble.

Moments later she found herself in a small clearing with a large willow tree in the center. A man was standing with his back to the tree, swinging a branch threateningly at a pony standing about fifteen feet away from him, just at the edge of the clearing. Janna was just about to ask him what he was doing when the pony took a few cautious steps forward. It was then that she noticed it wasn't a pony at all – it was a wolf, the largest wolf Janna had ever seen. _Okay, that's the **first** wolf I've ever seen,_ she admitted to herself. _At least in real life_. _But I've watched enough Discovery Channel to know they're not supposed to get that big. Wolves are supposed to be the size of dogs… I could hop on that thing and ride it back to my house. Hell, my dad could hop on that thing's back and start riding around._ Green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark stood out against its dark brown-grey fur, though Janna hardly noticed any of that. She was finding it almost impossible to tear her gaze away from the terrifyingly large fangs, white enough to catch a sliver of moonlight.

"Hey!" she yelled, immediately realizing that getting the beast's attention had probably not been the best idea. The animal's head continued to face the man, but its eyes slowly rolled to the side as it stole a glance at Janna. Something about its reaction seemed odd, but Janna did not take the time to think about that. Instead, she lowered her voice as she spoke to the wolf's prey. "Just come this way," she instructed. "Move slowly, but don't seem afraid." _What the hell?_ She wondered, keeping her doubts to herself, stifling a laugh as she mused at how completely unqualified she was to advise anyone in this situation.

"That's probably not the best idea," the guy pointed out as the wolf sidestepped to interpose itself between Janna and the man. A rustling at the far side of the clearing was Janna's only warning that the wolf's packmate had arrived. The second wolf – if one could call it that – was even larger than the first. Janna guessed the animal had to weigh at least 250 pounds, and probably far more. With the same long legs but a stockier body and what appeared to be jet-black fur, the wolf sent a shiver down Janna's spine. She started looking around for anything she could use as a weapon, her gaze quickly settling on a thick tree branch that was lying on the ground.

"Run," Janna told the man.

"No," he mumbled, his voice trembling with terror. "I can't outrun them."

"You won't have to," she assured him. "Run!" Even as she shouted, she lunged forward, wrapping her fingers around the branch as she hit the dirt and rolled forward, springing to her feet as she swung the branch downward like a club. The makeshift weapon thundered down on the first wolf's head, eliciting a yelp as the oversized animal crumpled to the ground. Janna was vaguely aware that the man had heeded her advice and was dashing off into the darkness, but the majority of her concentration remained elsewhere. The second wolf was upon her in a heartbeat.

Swinging the branch again, Janna was barely able to keep the wolf from clamping its jaws around her throat. Her effort did nothing to stop it from knocking her from her feet, though, as it pounced hungrily. _Way more than 250 pounds,_ she thought frantically as the beast landed upon her. It snapped hungrily, but Janna managed to use the branch to keep the snarling maw at bay, at least for the time being.

The animal snapped again. And again. Each time Janna succeeded in defending herself with the club as she struggled with her free hand to put some separation between herself and the wolf. "Get off me!" she yelled at it, desperately hoping that the sound of her voice would frighten it away. It didn't.

Her arms were growing heavy, and scratches from the beast's claws were starting to sting as blood mingled with sweat. What seemed like a ten-minute struggle suddenly ended as a high-pitched yelp drew the attacking animal's attention. It somehow hopped backward, out of Janna's reach, and looked across the small clearing to where the smaller wolf had finally risen to its feet. It pawed at the dirt, and then turned and ran off. The larger wolf immediately followed, leaving Janna behind to wonder what the hell had just happened.

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	6. Not All Fun and Games

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**V – Not All Fun and Games**

The increasingly familiar jangle of the bells above the Magic Box's door announced Janna's arrival, and she fought to suppress a smirk as she glanced around the showroom. At least a dozen teenagers, just released from the institutionalization of the first day back at school, were looking around, marveling at the unique wares that had already become so familiar to the Slayer.

"Hey Janna, did I hear you work here?" Danny Boyd called out from all the way across the room. Janna nodded and laughed as Danny held up an intricately carved elephant's tusk. "Is this a sex toy, or what?"

"Sort of," Janna lied, deciding to ham it up in front of her peers, "but unless there's something you've been holding back from your girlfriend, I don't think it's right for you."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"It was meant to be used on guys," Janna joked. Danny looked down at the phallic horn in his hand and visibly paled as his friends started to laugh at him.

"Seriously?" he asked, though Janna wouldn't have been able to hear him if she hadn't already been walking over.

"No, it's for warding off evil spirits," she told him. "It's from Sri Lanka, actually."

"Janna, can you work the register?" Graham asked as he joined the small group. She nodded and walked away, not bothering to listen to her boss suggest that maybe Danny not be so casual with a two hundred dollar piece of merchandise.

The next three and a half hours passed quickly, and before Janna knew it closing time had come. The last two shoppers – both single women looking for love potions – finally checked out, and Janna started to go through the day's receipts.

"I can get those," a familiar voice said cheerfully behind her.

"Thanks, Clem," she muttered as she turned to face the loose-skinned demon. She'd almost killed Clem the first time she saw him, but after assurances from Xander and a distrusting nod from Graham indicating he didn't like Clem but was willing to let him live, Janna decided not to drive her shiny new stake into the demon's chest. She had been happy with her decision ever since. Not only was Clem one of the most friendly people (or whatever he was) Janna had ever met, he also had a taste for chicken wings, which just happened to be one of Janna's favorite indulgences. _Now if I could only get him to sit through _Moulin Rouge!_…_

"Don't thank _me_," Clem responded. "Xander's orders – you gotta go into the back and do some research with him."

"I'd rather do the register," Janna grumbled.

"So would I," Clem answered with a devilish grin. He immediately set to work counting out the money, having to restart several times as the folds of skin on his hands caused him to lose count.

Janna trudged gloomily towards the back, dreading the sight of musty old tomes that Xander thought might be useful. She knew the cause for the latest study session – she'd told Graham all about her encounter in the woods the previous night. Now it was time for stodgy old Xander to have her read until her eyes were crossed.

"How long is this gonna take?" she asked as soon as her gaze settled on the stack of at least a dozen books sitting on the weathered, English oak table in Xander's private library.

"Better call your mom," Xander advised. "If you saw what I think you saw, this'll take some time if we're gonna get it right." Janna was halfway back out the doorway when Xander added ominously, "And we _have_ to get it right."

The phone call was quick and easy, just as it always was. Janna told her dad that she was going to bone up on the books so that she had a better idea of what all the merchandise was. Just to be safe, she also added that Xander had stopped in again and would keep an eye on her. Mentioning Xander was almost like a cure-all for any suspicions her parents ever had. About a week after Janna had started working at the Magic Box, Xander had gone in to "inspect" her workplace, ostensibly to make certain that she was in an environment that would be conducive to her gaining responsibility and maturity. He'd delivered his supposedly professional opinion that The Magic Box was the ideal environment for her. Not only did it offer her the opportunity to socialize with her peers in a setting where she was expected to behave as an adult, but the demands of learning about the store's wares would require hours of quiet study. Her parents had seen the logic in it, and were only made that much comfortable by Janna's job when Xander started stopping in after-hours to make sure that she was being challenged without being overworked.

Once the comparatively pleasurable task of calling her parents was finished, Janna trudged back to join her Watcher and find out what hellish threat she had to destroy that week. Xander's nose was buried in a book that Janna guessed weighed almost as much as she did. A thin cloud of dust seemed to rise every time the young Watcher turned a page, and Janna found herself searching for the smallest, lightest book in the stack that Xander had assembled.

"How long you have?" he asked absently, looking quickly from the sketch Janna had drawn to the intricate illustration on the yellowing pages. That was one thing Xander had said almost immediately – he was grateful for Janna's far better than average artistic ability. He claimed it made research much easier than it had been with Buffy, whose drawing skills seemed to go no further than stick figures and the occasional smiling sun.

"I have to be home by midnight," she told him. "I guess I could sneak back out later, though, if you need me to."

"Not until we're sure what that was. There's usually no surer way to get killed than to rush into battle with an unknown foe."

Unable to debate the wisdom of Xander's statement – and reluctant to argue for a position that would cause her to lose precious beauty sleep – Janna went to work leafing through one of the books, pretty much limiting herself to looking at the pictures. It didn't take her long to deduce the topic du jour – werewolves. _Makes sense,_ she decided. _If there are really vampires, then there just **have** to be werewolves, too._

Silence reigned for almost half an hour before Xander knocked Janna out of a daydream about using her Slayer skills to win a tennis scholarship in college. "This look about right?" he asked. Janna's eyes settled on a sketch of an immense, pony-sized wolf that had cornered a man holding a particularly nasty looking spear.

"Yeah, that looks about right," Janna assured him. "So what is it?"

"You're _sure_, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Xander stared at the picture for several moments, his lips trembling slightly as he seemed to be murmuring unspoken thoughts. Finally, he looked up at his Slayer. "Okay, here's the thing," he explained. "Doesn't take a genius to figure out that you ran into a werewolf out there."

"Already figured out that much," Janna responded. "Big, scary wolves acting like they have some semblance of intelligence. Not exactly rocket science, boss."

"I guess not," Xander agreed. "But here's the thing. See, there are actually lots of different types of werewolves. Different breeds, slightly different behavior and sometimes even different weaknesses."

"Such as?"

"Well, some breeds are violently allergic to silver," Xander explained. "Like how in the movies, you need three silver bullets to kill a werewolf."

"Yeah, I've seen that."

"With some breeds that's true," the Watcher explained. "For some other breeds, though, that would be overkill. It would actually be possible to kill some werewolves just by stabbing them with a silver pen, if it came to that."

"Really?"

"Trust me," Xander assured her. "Usually, one or two silver bullets will do the trick."

"And I'm getting the impression that you're about to use the word _but_," Janna commented. She knew her luck – there was always a _but_.

"But that may not be the case here," Xander admitted. "While there are certainly some breeds that are primarily quadrupeds… like a friend of mine from high school, actually… there's only one breed that has these dimensions."

"And that's bad, isn't it?"

"There're the loups-garou vrai," Xander said with a heavy sigh. "And from what these books say – the ones that actually mention the topic, anyway – the loups-garou vrai are supposed to be extinct."

"So what exactly are the loopy grew fry?"

"Loups-garou vrai," Xander corrected. "It's French for werewolf… some of the most basic werewolf stories come from France and parts of the American northeast and Canada."

"Because of French settlers," Janna concluded. Xander nodded and Janna mentally patted herself on the back. "So these are French werewolves or something? I thought werewolves were made when someone got bit. That's what it says in this book here. Didn't know it had to a French guy… though that would help explain _An American Werewolf in Paris_"

"_Almost_ all werewolves are made when a victim is bit but survives," Xander corrected. "That's not true with the loups-garou vrai – they're born."

"Huh?"  
"The word "vrai" means true," Xander explained. "The loups-garou vrai are the true werewolves, lycanthropes that were thought extinct."

"Great."

"It's probably not them," Xander quickly amended. "It's probably just a new breed of werewolf. New breeds appear every now and then, and given the fact that the ley lines just flared, it's more than likely this has nothing to do with the true werewolves. It's just that all of the current information we have points to them, and not to a new breed. Yet."

"So let's just assume that these are true werewolves," Janna suggested. "Really, what's the big deal?"

"Lycanthropy is a curse," Xander explained. "You probably know that already. Every full moon you turn into a werewolf and are consumed with a feral lust for blood. No on is safe from a werewolf's rage – friends, loved ones, and innocent bystanders are little more than a potential snack. Werewolves are cursed either to live out their lives alone, slowly going insane, or to kill everyone close to them and almost invariably go mad."

"Great…"

"Unfortunately, that's not the case with the true werewolves." That surprised Janna.

"But wouldn't that be a good thing? You know, for them not to be crazy?"

"No," Xander groaned. "Let me just start by explaining that only three of the rules that apply to cursed werewolves also apply to true werewolves – first, they're forced to transform into werewolves on the night of the full moon, as well as the nights immediately preceding and following the full moon; second, their bites curse the victim to become werewolves; and third, they're vulnerable to silver. Other than that, all bets are off. They retain their human intelligence and emotional control when they change forms; they can change anytime, at will, and are thus not limited by the moon when it comes to taking advantage of their wolf-man forms; they're nowhere near as vulnerable to silver as their cursed brethren are; they generally run in packs and are anything but solitary; and last but certainly not least, they actually have three forms they can take, rather than just two."

"Three forms?"

"They can be human, of course, and they can also take the wolf-man form that everyone's seen in the movies," Xander explained. "In addition to that bipedal form, they also take a quadrupedal form like the one you saw. It's theorized that the preferences of the werewolf – whether he prefers the quadruped or biped forms – helps determine the "breed" of the cursed werewolf that's created."

"So they're not breeds like the normal meaning of the word," Janna surmised, a part of her finding it almost hilarious that she was following along in a factual discussion about werewolves. "The word just refers to the type of curse that they're inflicted with?"

"Right. When a true werewolf bites someone, the personality and strength of the individual is expressed in the form of the curse. When that cursed werewolf bites someone else, the same exact form of the curse is passed on. Since the true loups-garou were thought extinct, the scholars all figured that all the forms of the curse that were out there could be tallied up and classified, resulting in references to breeds."

"So all we have to do is figure out if any new breeds have appeared in the area," Janna concluded. "If there are, then we found true werewolves."

"Unless, as I mentioned before, the ley lines changed some peoples' curses or something," Xander added. "I just don't know if we have all the information we need."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," Janna assured him.

"Well, I will, anyway," Xander replied. "You get to work with Graham for the rest of the night."

"Really?"

"Really. We had the L.A. branch ship us a sword today. It's special – has silver laced into the steel. It's also specially enchanted to be especially harmful to werewolves. He's gonna teach you how to use it."

"I get to play with a sword instead of doing research? Cool."

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	7. Learning Life's Lessons

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**VI – Learning Life's Lessons**

Janna had almost forgotten about her encounter in the woods until Jack Derry bumped into her in the hallway between classes. "Watch it," Janna groused as she pushed the football team's running back away from her. Jack was thrown off balance and bounced off the lockers, drawing the gaze of every student within twenty feet.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked angrily, as if Janna had deliberately set out to embarrass him.

"Sorry," she muttered absently, setting her eyes on the floor and rushing off to the safety of Mrs. Herzog's trig class. _Have to be more careful_, she reminded herself. She was still getting used to her strength and far too often found herself doing something to attract undue attention. Even worse than the unwanted attention was the unpleasant reminder of what she was and what occupied her time once the sun went down. Her pace quickened as she raced toward the benign familiarity of the classroom.

Janna marveled at how happy she was in trig that morning, just relaxing in the reasonable certainty that math would forever remain a non-contact activity. _Unless Slayer powers start including a built-in calculator, there's nothing that should happen in here that'll draw stares, _she assured herselfAs Mrs. Herzog's voice dropped into its characteristic monotone drone, Janna allowed her mind to wander.

Predictably, the first topic that leapt to mind was the encounter in the woods. _Two huge frickin wolves – or werewolves – and my Watcher guy can't even tell me what the hell they are. Like how hard could that be, anyway?_ _Seems to me I was never seein' stuff like vampires and werewolves or whatnot before 'being called,' so it can't be like there're demons hiding in every shadow. So how come is it that this supposed expert can't even decide whether this is some kind of cursed wolf, or true wolf, or whatever it was he was talking about?_

Her doubts about Xander's ability brought another thought to mind – Graham. _Now he's the one who should be watchin' me,_ Janna decided. While Xander's instruction was often bogged down in dry academic theory and rote memorization of trivial facts, Graham offered her the chance to let loose and hit stuff, to really enjoy the perks of the job, so to speak. It hadn't taken Janna long to realize that while any two-bit clown with an above-average I.Q. could learn all he needed to about the occult, only a Slayer could work over one of the baddies that Xander spent so much time teaching her about. Unfortunately, that conclusion had led to a great deal of friction between her and her Watcher.

The routine was always the same – he explained that she should learn everything she could so that she would be prepared. Then she asked why that was even an issue since, after all, she had him for the book learning. As she sat in class she started to replay the most recent episode of the ongoing debate.

"You don't take your instruction seriously enough," Xander said in his ever so patient voice. It was his voice that really set her off more than anything else. _If only he would just yell at me the way he wants to, that would be okay. But instead he just stands there all patient and Obi-wan-ish. It's sorta irritating._

"You don't take the combat training seriously enough," Janna retorted. "What good is it to know fifty ways to kill a Gabashar demon if I don't have the strength to punch through its scales?"

"Gabashars don't have scales," Xander countered, still calm. "They have thick fur and a habit of spitting venom in the eyes of attackers. If you didn't know that, you'd end up blind. Speaking as someone who's already half-way there, let me assure you that blindness is a handicap that cannot easily be overcome by physical training."

"Okay, forget the Gabashar," Janna had quickly said, hoping to undue the damage she had done to her own cause when she'd thrown out the name of a demon she knew nothing about; her own argument had provided Xander with all the ammunition he'd needed for his response. "What if it was a chameloid?"

"A chameloid was the shape-shifting alien that broke Kirk and McCoy out of the Klingon penal colony of Rura Penthe in Star Trek VI," Xander muttered wearily. "I'm sure you mean a chamolind. We read about them just two nights ago, and if you can tell me how a chamolind demon killed a Slayer in 1732, I'll let you train with Graham for the rest of the night." Then Xander's ever-so-patient expression melted away into a cocky, one-eyed grin that made Janna want to hit him.

"In 1732?" Janna asked, almost furiously. "You've got to be kidding. What kind of question is that?"

"Think of it as Final Jeopardy," Xander said, his smile becoming more amused with every passing second. "Get it right, and you get to come back tomorrow... but enjoy doing whatever you like as our reigning champion today."

"Fine," Janna growled. She thought back to their studies two nights earlier, trying to remember anything about a Slayer being killed. She remembered something about one being crushed in the coils of a naga, but she was certain that a naga and a chamolind were not the same thing. She decided to try a different strategy – recalling what a chamolind looked like. _If I can remember what they look like, I'll probably give myself a huge clue as to how one killed a Slayer._ She had just about brought the picture into her head when Xander broke her concentration by humming the Jeopardy tune. "Do you mind?" Janna groused. "I'm trying to think here."

"Try saying that next time you get into a scrap with a Sinthar demon and you're trying to remember whether knocking it into a pool will melt it or cause it to temporarily double its strength," Xander responded. "I'm sure it'll back off long enough for you to compose your thoughts."

"I got it," Janna said confidently, remembering seeing a picture of a scorpion-like demon in one of the books. "The chamolind poisoned the Slayer."

"Ah, you remember the picture with the tail," he said with a nod.

"Yup."

"But you apparently didn't read the caption, did you?"

"Huh?" A sinking feeling hit Janna's gut just then.

"In the third – and longest – of the chamolind's seven growth stages, the demon has a tail that generates electricity; it's pretty similar to an electric eel, actually," Xander muttered. "Except, of course, that it can generate far more current. A chamolind can arc electric bolts up to three meters long from its tail. If you fought a chamolind and kept clear of the "poisonous tail," you'd probably end up getting fried, instead. Just like the unfortunate Slayer in 1732. Now would you prefer starting with anatomy of demons in the tesseract family, or should we maybe cover basic incantations?"

"You need a hobby," Janna grumbled.

"I already have one," Xander said with a satisfied smile. "I collect comics."

"Color me shocked," Janna muttered. "I think maybe we should get you a girlfriend." Something in Xander's face dropped at her words, and Janna was amazed to find how guilty she felt. "Let's just start with incantations," she said quickly, hoping to avoid any further awkwardness. She had filed that little tidbit away, though, for future reference.

When the bell knocked her out of her reverie, she found herself amazed that she really couldn't remember a word of what Mrs. Herzog had said. She stopped off quickly at her locker to trade her trig book for her copy of Hamlet, and plodded off to English class, hoping that Mr. Simmons would spare her the humiliation of being called on again. He had already made her feel terrible about not knowing why it was such a big deal to Hamlet that he shouldn't kill the king while he was praying; Janna could just imagine what kind of questions she might be asked about the conversation between Polonius and Laertes, or whatever it was that they were supposed to have read the night before.

"So guess what?" Simone asked as she came up behind Janna, almost startling her enough to scream.

"Enough with the sneaking up on me," Janna griped before answering.

"Fine, but guess what?"

"What?" Janna finally asked. She knew it was her supremely uninterested tone that caused Simone's face to drop slightly. If there was one thing Simone loved more than anything else, it was finding out something before anyone else did. Janna loved her friend to death but had always found that one character trait more than slightly annoying.

"Someone's got the major hots for ya," Simone gushed.

"Oh yeah?" Janna answered, trying to make herself sound interested. She figured it was the least she could do – she owed her friend that much. "Who is it?"

"Dave Riordan."

"And that's supposed to interest me?" Janna replied. If she were to devote all of her time and energy to ranking every single guy in the school, she doubted Dave Riordan would even make the top twenty. While most girls were more than willing to admit he was probably one of the hottest guys ever to walk the streets of their town, he had enough baggage to sink a cruise ship. First of all, he was poor. Janna hated to think of herself as materialistic or snobbish, but she also couldn't bring herself to be thrilled about the prospect of going out with a guy who lived in a thirty-year-old trailer in the middle of the woods. Not to mention the fact that his mother was the walking epitome of the alcoholic, small-town slut, though maybe that wouldn't have happened if Dave's father hadn't been killed by the mob ten years earlier because he had a habit of gambling and not paying his debts. Then, of course, Dave's older brother just happened to be the All-American perfect guy... until he decided one night that he should try drinking like his mother and then enjoy the thrill of driving the back-roads without using his headlights. Dave's uncle – the sheriff – had tried to cover up that most recent family scandal; but if there was one thing small towns were good at, it was using the rumor mill to get right to the heart of any interesting story.

"So you're _not_ interested?"

"Somebody's just got their wires crossed or something," Janna muttered, finally stopping to turn toward her friend. "When was the last time Dave did anything social? I mean _anything_? He's a total recluse... even the other weirdo recluses in the school don't have any interest in him. Besides, I've never even talked to the guy. Dave being interested in anyone – especially me – is just about as farfetched an idea as I've ever heard." Janna took a moment to make sure Simone was still listening – she had a habit of shutting out just about everything as she watched guys in the halls – and continued only when she found her friend's eyes still gazing in her general direction. "You know what? This reminds me of the time Keith Carter convinced you that there really _is_ a Great Pumpkin, just because there's a cartoon about it."

"Well, he was pretty convincing," Simone countered. "I mean, look at the whole thing with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. There're cartoons about them, too. How can you blame me for believing it?"

"It's not exactly like Santa and the Easter Bunny are real, either, just because there are cartoons about them," Janna pointed out. "And besides, this was just last year."

"Oh, sure... use the whole 'being old enough to know better' argument. Don't forget I was a bit drunk at the time."

"Granted."

"Anyway, what if it's true? About Dave, I mean... not the whole Great Pumpkin thing."

"Not interested," Janna said flatly.

"He's cute."

"Then why don't _you_ go out with him?"

"I'm not the one he was asking about."

"I've got enough going on right now," Janna commented, deciding then and there that she wouldn't get involved with anyone until she got the whole being a slayer thing under control. "I don't think it would be a good idea."

"It's a _great_ idea," Simone countered. "And if you're worried about people talking, don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but after that party where you went a little nuts, and now with you working at that magic shop and pretty much getting all lone-wolf on your friends lately... well, I think most people wouldn't find you and Dave too surprising and all. I mean, sure, Dave's weird... but nowadays, so are you."

"That's a comfort," Janna grumbled as she walked into English. She was struck speechless by the realization that, once again, she found the safety and familiarity of the classroom to be a welcome relief.

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	8. Signs and Portents

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**VII - Signs and Portents**

Janna awoke with a start, knowing on some instinctual level that something was very wrong – she was not alone. She almost called out into the inky darkness of her room, wanting to ask who was there, needing to know that she was not in any danger. But just before she opened her mouth to speak, she stopped herself. _Slayers don't call out in fear,_ she told herself. _Slayers bring fear to the things that go bump in the night._

She ignored how exposed and vulnerable she felt, lying on her back under a thin sheet with no weapons in reach. **_I'm_**_ the weapon,_ she reminded herself. _I don't need a knife or stake as some kind of crutch._ She momentarily held her breath, listening for the slightest stirring in her room. She had just about convinced herself that it had all been her imagination when she heard what sounded to her like the distant echo of a muffled breath. Janna disregarded the tempting thought that it was only her imagination; she was certainly not alone, and whoever was in the room with her knew that she was awake and listening.

_And now they'll have to decide whether or not I was likely to have heard them,_ Janna told herself. _If they decide I likely heard them, then it's time to fight or flee._ That realization put her in motion just in time – Janna slid her legs off the side of the bed and was on her feet just in time to meet her attacker. He was nothing less than massive, standing almost seven feet tall with shoulders that seemed almost as wide and legs that were as thick as Janna's chest. The Slayer parried the intruder's first strikes, pain shooting through her forearms as her bones absorbed the brunt of the jarring impact of fists and forearms that felt as if they were made of stone. Janna desperately tried to hold her ground as she sought a strategy, struggling against panic and trying to keep herself levelheaded. _He's bigger and stronger than I am,_ she admitted to herself. _My mind may be the only advantage I have, and if I lose my cool it's over._

Janna finally found an opening and lashed out with the deadly quickness and precision of a cobra. Her fists connected solidly with her foe's chin, but his head hardly even rolled with the blow. She followed with a palm heel strike to the man's sternum, putting everything she had behind the effort, but he did not even seem to feel it. He jabbed out quickly, catching Janna in the gut and doubling her over in pain. _Stand up before he flattens you!_ Janna's mind screamed out in warning. The Slayer regained her feet just in time to sidestep a right hook she was certain would have crushed her skull.

She was starting to consider fleeing when her opponent finally made a mistake – he over-extended slightly as he tried to force the action. Janna was surprised that she noticed the misstep – she was still learning the basics of hand-to-hand fighting, after all – but she took full advantage. _Forget the testicles, go for the knees,_ she remembered Graham advising her in one of her first sparring sessions. _Most men are well aware of their one major weak spot, but take out a knee and even the biggest man will topple to the floor._ Fairly confident that her opponent might qualify as 'the biggest man,' Janna put everything she had into a forward snap kick that she quickly followed with an elbow strike to his chin.

The large man wobbled slightly, and Janna never allowed him to regain his balance. She literally charged forward, launching a haymaker at the side of his head. The man grunted at the impact and staggered back, smashing the ceramic elephant lamp Janna had received from her cousin in Illinois. It was no huge loss, since it had never worked, but she winced at the noise it made. _If my parents had somehow slept through the rest of this, there're certainly gonna wake up after that._

Forgetting her initial fear and doubt, and resolving at least to knock out the intruder before her father could interfere, Janna continued to advance on her prey, sweeping his legs out from under him, grabbing her yearbook from the previous school year and using it to bludgeon the man into submission. The binding of the journal thudded heavily once, twice, and then was slapped aside as the man regained his composure. He grabbed Janna's calf and twisted sharply, wrenching her ankle around and taking her down to the floor. The young slayer almost laughed as she saw her opponent rising to his own feet as she collapsed from her own, the two of them passing each other in their brief journeys in opposite directions. Her head cracked sharply off of the foot of her dresser on the way down, and Janna's mind screamed out at her to struggle against losing consciousness.

She looked up just in time to see her attacker's boot connect with her forehead, snapping her head back painfully; Janna felt strangely alert, more so than she would ever have expected in the situation, but she likewise was all too aware of the fact that her legs just would not acknowledge her command to work. She continued to lie there, musing that she now knew what boxers felt like when they were knocked for a loop – the spirit was willing, but the body was far less than able. That was when she saw the glint of metal as the man drew a large scimitar that Janna was certain was just as sharp as it was battle-worn.

A brief thought flashed through her mind – _exactly how many years did I lose off my life expectancy by becoming a superhero?_ – and just before the inevitable end was brought down upon her, Janna heard the deep throaty rumble that she quickly identified as a growl. The growl of a very, very large wolf.

Janna could smell the wolf before she actually saw it – a heavy scent that seemed to combine the musk of a panther she'd seen at the zoo when she was a kid, and the sharp, oppressive odor of wet dog. The large man immediately shifted his attention away from her and toward the wolf. The monstrous animal padded cautiously from the closet, the sight reminding Janna of the tenth clown emerging from a Volkswagen – she just couldn't imagine how the beast had managed to fit in a closet that wasn't even large enough to accommodate her entire wardrobe.

The sheen on its immaculately white fur caught a beam of moonlight that was shining in through the window, and the growl grew into a snarl. Sharp, oversized canines – but no drool, Janna noticed – were threateningly displayed. Lightening fast the animal pounced, only to be impaled on the end of the sword. The weapon, still embedded in the wolf's ribcage, was torn from the man's hand as the animal crumpled to the floor with a surprised yelp; Janna took full advantage of the unexpected opportunity.

She'd regained her senses and was upon her attacker in a heartbeat, tackling his legs and knocking him to the floor. Janna tore the bedpost from her bed and started to club the man, her strikes echoing dully through the room. Just as she concluded he must be dead, he backhanded her, almost casually, and sent her falling back three steps. A crippling kick to her abdomen followed, and once again she fell, though this time her opponent remained conspicuously still. Her head bounced off the floor, and she realized that the thudding from her strikes with the bedpost was still continuing.

Janna looked around, momentarily panicked by the fact that she was unable to move her arms or legs. "Janna, open the door!" she heard her father yelling loudly from outside. The thudding from the bedpost became her father's pounding at the door. A quick appraisal of the situation revealed that she was on the floor next to bed, tangled up in her sheets with Higgins – her stuffed monkey – gripped tightly in her right hand. _It was all a dream? Goddamn…_

"Hold on," she called out weakly, realizing she was completely out of breath.

"Are you okay?" her father asked, an unfamiliar tone in his voice.

"I'm fine," Janna muttered. She unlocked the door and was nothing less than shocked when she saw the concern on the faces of her parents. "I'm fine," she repeated. Her father nodded weakly, obviously relieved that the crisis had passed. Her mother remained upset, though, and for several moments Janna was afraid she'd be on the receiving end of a very awkward embrace. Her mother wasn't big on physical touch, and it had been over a decade since Janna had gotten a hug. She wasn't quite sure how she was expected to react.

The Slayer was relieved when her mother simply offered a question. "What happened?"

"Bad dream… sorta."

"You made all that noise because of a nightmare?" her father asked, suddenly incredulous and comfortingly more dad-like.

"Oh God… not the nightmares again," her mother gasped, reminding Janna of the veritable panic attacks her mother had been experiencing before Xander showed up to address Janna's behavior problems. "It's because of that occult shop, isn't it?" Janna immediately threw herself into damage-control mode, knowing that she had to come up with a reply that would prevent her mother from going on an anti-Magic Shop crusade.

"No, not a nightmare," Janna corrected. "Nothing like those nightmares I used to have, anyway. Like I said – it was just a bad dream. Sorta. I'm not entirely certain, but I'm pretty sure I was on the Love Boat, and that skinny doctor guy told me I should take better care of myself. Then outta nowhere comes Billy Blanks, and he gets me started with some Tae Bo right there on the deck. I think William Shatner and Regis Philbin fit in there somewhere, too. And maybe 50 Cent. I think he was the bartender…" She just threw out the most inane things she could think of, knowing that the more ridiculous it sounded, the less made-up her parents would think it was.

"Fifty cents?" her father asked. "What?"

"Doesn't matter," Janna replied, not even taking a moment to weigh the merits of explaining to her father who 50 Cent is at three in the morning. "Just a weird dream. I guess I started doing aerobics in my sleep or something – I knocked a couple of things off my dresser."

"And what about the screaming?" her mother asked.

"Screaming?" Janna responded, trying to sound puzzled as to why she might have been screaming during a dream involving the Love Boat. "Don't remember screaming. Maybe I was trying to keep count while I was doing jumping jacks. Or maybe there was an iceberg near the end of the dream and I just don't remember." Her father's dubious expression told her he wasn't buying a word of it – but a quick glance toward her mother let Janna know that her mother, predictably enough, was choosing the easier path of believing Janna's excuses rather than facing the possibility that her daughter was going back down the road to madness, just as they had feared she was during the summer. "I'll talk to Xander about it during our next session, see if it means anything," Janna offered. "You know how those therapist types are with dream interpretation."

"Yes, that's a good idea," her mother commented. "Ask Xander. He'll know what to do."

"You want some tea or anything?" her father asked, noticeably passing up the chance to make any comments about Xander. While he couldn't argue with the improvements in Janna's behavior, he had never really gotten over feeling cheated when Dr. Alexander Harris, European Specialist turned out to be young American Xander, a California guy with a spooky eye patch and a high-school education.

"No, I'll just go back to sleep," Janna said wearily. "See ya in the morning." Once she was back in bed, she began to run through the dream on her own, trying to figure out what it might have meant. It only took her a few minutes to decide that it was more vision than dream. When Xander had initially warned her that she might receive visions, Janna had thought it cool. She hadn't expected her first vision to be a violent encounter involving an overpowering nighttime intruder and a super-sized wolf. _But if it **is** a vision, just what in the world does it mean?_

_To be continued…………………………………………_


	9. Addressing Concerns

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**VIII – Addressing Concerns**

"We're getting him now," Giles' voice announced over the speakerphone. Xander waited a couple of moments as a series of clicks connected the last member of the conference call.

"Hey," the gruff voice muttered, as unassuming as ever.

"Good to hear from you, Oz," Xander replied happily, fighting to hold off the rush of memories that came unbidden. Oz's voice meant happier times back in high school and just after. Years spent in Sunnydale, constantly overwrought by the challenges he faced on a daily basis. As a teenager, Xander had always felt so much more mature than his peers. While they all played at dating, school, part-time jobs, and fell into every stereotypical pitfall of youth, he was out fighting to save the world. His parents occasionally made comments about how his perspective would change when he grew up and saw what it was like to be an adult, and he always shrugged in reply, confident that he already knew. It all seemed so comical now; his parents had been right… for once… and he'd been proven to be as immature and overconfident as anyone else he'd known while growing up. Though he'd never have believed it back in Sunnydale High, there _were_ worse things than the Master, and Angelus, and even the Mayor. It _could_ get more horrifying than losing a friend and teacher. In the past decade, so many people Xander had known and loved had died. And now Oz – good old Oz who'd hardly ever said a hurtful word to anyone – was inadvertently bringing it all back.

"Thank you for getting in touch with us, Oz," Giles added. "I know you've been very busy."

"You asked about werewolves," he replied. "I happen to know a little."

_Understated as always,_ Xander thought. Keeping his opinions to himself, Xander got right down to business, just as he figured Giles would have if he were the Watcher with a question. "My Slayer was attacked by a pair of wolves a few nights ago," he began. "Big wolves, Oz. We're not entirely sure what they are, but they certainly weren't natural."

"Direwolves," Oz commented, referring to a long-extinct species of wolf that had grown to the size of ponies. Though recent research on the topic theorized that the large beasts were scavengers rather than simply overgrown versions of the modern, aggressive hunters modern wolves were known to be, Xander's Slayer had assured him that the wolves did not appear very interested in scavenging.

"From what she says, yes," Xander confirmed, knowing that concluding the beasts were direwolves would go a long way toward clarifying the issue.

"There haven't been natural direwolves for millennia," Giles put in, "so if that's what she saw, they would have almost had to have been the loups-garou vrai."

"That's a little more reasonable, since they allegedly went extinct only about a century ago," Oz admitted.

"You hear anything that would indicate otherwise?" Xander asked, noting the use of the word 'allegedly.'

"I heard a rumor recently," Oz admitted, "though it seems fantastical, even given what you're saying now. I heard that there's a direwolf-like beast hunting in the area around Grenoble, but it really sounds more to me like some people have seen 'Brotherhood of the Wolf' a few too many times. It's not like anyone's been killed or anything, so the only thing we have to go on is the reports of a few drunken villagers."

"It still may be something we want to look into," Giles decided. "I'll send a couple of our girls to check it out."

"And I'm going to have to have Janna go back out there, too," Xander responded, uncomfortable with the thought of sending his young charge into danger. That moment taught him a great deal about the anxiety Giles had faced for years.

"Make sure she stays on her toes," Oz advised. "You guys know what I was like when I made my change, and though I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, I'm far from one of the more powerful lines of werewolves. Some are far larger, stronger, and faster."

"Make sure she won't be careless," Giles warned, echoing Oz's advice. "We have a great deal riding on that Slayer of yours, Xander. I hardly think I need to remind you of that."

"I know," Xander admitted, "but to be perfectly honest, I think we may want to re-evaluate our conclusions. This town isn't what we expected."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

"In the past few months, my Slayer has found and dusted a grand total of seven vamps," Xander explained. "We also found a couple of demons skulking about a few doors down from the Magic Box, but nothing big-time. With the exception of these two wolves in the woods, there's been _nothing_ in this town that's incredibly strange. The supernatural and paranormal activity in this town would be considered surprisingly low _before_ the ley lines flared, given that we're sitting on a node. But considering that it's been months now since the flare… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned."

"You're concerned because nothing out of the ordinary is going on?" Oz asked. "That's new and different."

"It _is_ unusual, though," Giles admitted. "By all rights, that town should be starting to resemble Sunnydale by now. Sunnydale before Buffy's arrival, that is." _Sunnydale in the alternate dimension Anya created, actually,_ Xander corrected silently, remembering the particular bedtime story his fiancée had told him to explain how she'd ended up in Sunnydale in the first place.

"If there's anything going on right now, Giles, it's all safely hidden away," Xander assured his mentor. "In fact, it doesn't even have that air of a town that's about to erupt with nastiness, like Sunnydale near the end of the summer after we killed the Master, or right before the town was destroyed. This place is like something out of a Capra film."

"I thought you said it _wasn't_ scary," Oz joked, bringing a welcome grin to Xander's face.

"You've checked the birth and death rates?" Giles asked. "There aren't a large number of people dying young?"

"The average life expectancy in the town is slightly below the national average, but it's not crazy-low," Xander answered. "I definitely don't think it's a statistically significant difference, anyway."

"Why don't you send me the figures for the past few generations?" Oz suggested. "I'll run the numbers again and see if there's any kind of pattern we're missing."

"It'll take time to assemble all the data," Xander warned. "Most of it's still in hard copy down at the town hall. The town actually got some state funding a few years ago to start putting their records on computer, but the work's been progressing slowly. I'm gonna have to hire someone to do the work."

"Do that," Giles told him. "I'll take care of the funding. Just get it done as soon as you can. That town – and your Slayer – are two of our highest priorities right now."

Giles hung up, taking the connection with Oz with him, leaving Xander alone with his concerns. _I can't even imagine how Giles managed to deal with this stuff for as long as he did. Every unknown challenge signaled the possibility that his Slayer had reached the end of her road._ He remembered Giles' last words of advice, just before Xander had left to return to the States after his very abbreviated crash course in Watcher-ology. _"The hardest thing you'll have to learn is how to walk the line between helping your Slayer and doing too much for her,"_ the Englishman had said almost sadly._ "Not only can you get killed if you try too much too soon – and you won't be doing her any good from six feet underground – but you'll deprive her of the chance to learn to think for herself. You've been in the field, so you'll know every time you send her out there what she's getting into, and that you might never see her alive again. You have to learn to trust her resourcefulness; maybe even more than she needs to learn to be resourceful."_ The words had been so simple, but putting them into practice had quickly become all but impossible.

"She has to learn to be all that she can be, and she has to learn it fast," Xander muttered to himself. "Like Giles said, we have an awful lot riding on this Slayer."

_To be continued………………………………………_


	10. All Work and No Play…

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**IX – All Work and No Play…**

"Don't look now, but Dave is right behind us," Simone said with a giggle.

"We're in a hallway walking to lunch," Janna pointed out. "There are lots of guys right behind us." _Although none of them are matching our strides and pace,_ Janna noted with surprise, wondering how she had been able to pick up on that in a hall full of teenagers rushing toward their afternoon feeding. _It's almost like he's stalking us._

The two girls fell right into line, Simone immediately injecting herself into a conversation with Sara Wabash and Jenny DiCarlo while Janna leaned back against the wall.

"Hey," Dave said amiably as he moved up through line and next to her. Tommy Morelli almost looked like he was going to say something about Dave cutting in front of him in the line, but a surprisingly intimidating sideways stare from the social outcast instantly made the captain of the chess team think better of voicing any complaints. Simone kept blathering away, though Jana knew from experience that her friend's concentration was focused almost exclusively on whatever happened between Janna and Dave.

"Hey," Janna muttered, completely unsure of what to say next. _Okay, so I've stared down werewolves and even killed a few vampires, but put me face to face with a hot but pathetically unpopular guy, and I still fall apart every bit as much as I used to._

"You hear about Rob Goebel's party after the game Friday night?" he asked.

"Yup."

"Wondering if you wanted to go with me," Dave continued, setting Janna's nerves on edge. Something about the situation seemed almost surreal. _This is wrong,_ she decided, wondering if maybe she was dreaming… or having another vision. Even as she doubted the reality of the conversation, she tried to pinpoint what it was that seemed out of place. Dave's next words helped her pinpoint exactly what it was. "Of course, if you'd prefer to stand there and not answer, I'll feel free to just make up a response for you," he joked.

_He's way too confident,_ Janna realized. She took a mental step back and looked at the situation objectively, realizing immediately that there was no one in the school who would be insane enough to ask someone out in the middle of the lunch line, right there for everyone to see when he got shot down. _That's just not the way it works. Especially if you're solidly on the outside of even the fringe cliques._

"I, umm… I don't know."

"You already have plans?"

"Well, not really, I don't think."

"You working Friday night?"

"Nope."

"Then it sounds like you're available, and it should be a blast. How about I pick you up at about nine?"

"I, uhh… Okay." The suddenness of the conversation's conclusion baffled the young slayer. _How the hell did that happen?_ Dave was already walking away, wandering off to wherever it was that the unpopular kids sat in the cafeteria, and several students were looking at Janna as if she had three heads.

"See, I told you he likes you," Simone said once Dave was out of earshot, abandoning her less interesting gabfest with Sara and Jenny.

"That was weird," Janna muttered.

"Well, _he's_ weird," Simone pointed out. "But what exactly do you mean?"

"Asking me in the hot lunch line?"

"Yeah, not very romantic." Janna wanted to shake Simone, to get her to understand that Dave had just broken what amounted to a high school taboo – everyone knew you don't ask someone out for the first time when there was an audience. _Of course, Simone's the type who's always dreamed of having an audience in that kind of a situation, either so everyone can know right away what popular guy asked her out, or so she could shoot an unworthy guy down in front of all his peers._

"Forget it," Janna muttered.

"So I guess you'll be at the party, then," Simone said with a girly giggle that forced Janna to struggle against her gag reflex.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Out of curiosity, how long has it been since you had a date?"

"Dunno," Janna mumbled, struck by the difficulty of answering such a simple question. _How long _has_ it been?_ she asked herself. _Not since last year… at the prom._ She had gone to the prom with Josh Bonner, but that had been more a friends thing than an actual date. They were both in the volleyball club and had spent time as lab partners in chem. lab. Beyond that, though, there had not been much of a connection. _At least not a romantic one, anyway. But Dave… there's no connection at all. If there's anything, it would have to be considered romantic. Or at least that must be his goal. So that's, like, a real date._ Janna's nerves were suddenly on edge as she considered a thousand questions – _What are my parents going to say? Will they be happy I'm going out at all, or will they be all suspicious because I've never so much as mentioned Dave's name? Or even worse, will they recognize his name? Should I just not mention him at all and restrict myself to talking about the party? What is Xander going to say when I tell him I'm going to a party instead of going on rounds? What will Graham say, especially if he wants me to work late at the Magic Shop on Friday?_ Despite all of her legitimate questions and concerns, one thought dominated all the others – _What in the world am I going to wear?_

_To be continued………………………………………_


	11. The Truth Can Hurt

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**X – The Truth Can Hurt**

"If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?" Janna asked. Xander looked at his Slayer and knew that something was wrong. Not that he needed his eye to tell him that – her voice clearly conveyed that message all by itself.

"Yes," Xander said, trying not to betray how uneasy he felt. Being a Watcher was one of the most demanding vocations one could undertake, and in no small way was the difficulty tied into the issue of honesty. There would be times when holding back a small piece of information might keep a Slayer alive, and who was to say that omitting the truth was necessarily a lie? There would also be times when he would have to be brutally forthright, knowing even as he spoke that he was tearing out his charge's heart; was such a display of honesty a virtue? He had addressed this very issue with Giles, remembering the betrayal Buffy had felt when her own Watcher had participated in the Council's traditional test when she turned eighteen. At the time, Xander had felt the betrayal almost as strongly as Buffy had, but as years brought more experience and wisdom, he had to admit that he might have done just as Giles did. _In so many ways the easiest part of this job is jumping into the fray with the Slayer, just like I always did with Buffy. Just like Giles did when he had to, whether the Council approved of his direct involvement or not. The tough part is living what happens between the pages of the journals detailing a Slayer's battles._

"This is never gonna end, is it?" Janna asked. The heartbroken tone of her voice was almost enough to bring tears to Xander's eyes. He had been surprised that Janna had taken up her calling so easily, showing far less resistance than many others had. There were a few confused questions, but then she dove headlong into her new life. _But now she's had a little time to think. It's starting to occur to her that the future she's been planning for her entire life will never come… and how the hell do I even begin to sugarcoat this?_

"What do you mean?" Xander asked, hoping that his suspicions were wrong, that maybe she was asking about studying for a test or agonizing over her latest crush. _Those are the kind of things she should be thinking about. I never realized how unfair this all was to Buffy… and to me, too, I guess. We all gave up a lot to do this, and now Janna has to, too. At least Willow and I had a choice; the Slayers have no say in the matter._

"I'm a Slayer until I die, aren't I?"

"Yes," Xander replied evenly, hoping he would somehow feel better once the truth was out there. But now he felt even worse.

"So I don't have a life of my own anymore, and everything I've ever done means nothing now, doesn't it?"

"It means everything," Xander said quickly, suddenly realizing just how despondent his charge had become. "Everything you've ever done has made you the person you are."

"No, everything I've ever done made me the person I was up until _that spell_," she shot back, the last two words spoken like a curse. "Get a good night's sleep, Janna. Do your homework, Janna. Eat your vitamins and say your prayers, Janna. Don't drink. Don't smoke. Don't let your boyfriend take advantage of you… as if I'm ever gonna have a boyfriend again, anyway. Don't speed. Don't daydream. Don't do a goddamn thing that could ever jeopardize your future. And you know what, Xander?" He shook his head, not risking saying the wrong thing. Years of friendship with Buffy and Willow had taught him when he was supposed to just shut up and listen, and this was one of those times. "I'll tell you what," she continued. "It doesn't mean anything now. I'm never gonna go to college. Hell, the way things are going I'd be surprised if I lived until I got out of high school."

Xander almost interrupted with the canned, well-rehearsed assurances he had always heard from Giles whenever Buffy got down on life, but he reminded himself that this was not the time. _Let her vent,_ he told himself.

"I've lost all but one or two friends, the guys in the school think I'm a nut, and my grades keep slipping because I'm up half the night hunting vampires and werewolves. I guess it's actually not as bad as it was before you got here," she admitted, bringing a momentary smile to Xander's face. "My grades were _really_ tanking then, and I was so confused about everything that I felt like the entire world was spinning out of control. Oh, and now one guy seems interested, but he's about as popular as a cop at a high-school kegger. So at least I have a bit of a handle on things, but it's not like I can change any of it. I'm gonna keep learning about vampires, and werewolves, and assorted demons, and apocalypses… is that a real world? I mean, what _is_ the plural of apocalypse, anyway?"

"Life," Xander replied, only half-jokingly. "You want me to be honest?"

"Yes," she answered. Xander hoped that she had finished her tirade, that she was ready to hear the wisdom of someone all of six or seven years older than she was.

"Truth is that life sucks in lots of ways, Janna. It doesn't matter if you're the… sorry, _a_ Slayer, the class valedictorian, the captain of the football team, or whether you're the sub-par child of a disinterested, mousy mother and an abusive, alcoholic father. You're a teenager, and you're in high school. Ergo, life sucks. Sure, you probably won't get to go to college, get married, have 2.3 kids, a dog, and a minivan. And you know what, there are plenty of other kids in your school who'll never have that, either. Maybe they weren't gifted with your intelligence, so they'll never have the chances you had. Or maybe someone's parents will die prematurely, and he'll have to give up college to take care of a younger brother or sister. Life hardly ever works out the way we planned it when we were sixteen, and you know what?"

"What?" Janna asked, almost challengingly.

"You wouldn't want it to." Janna gave him a puzzled stare, so he continued. "When I was sixteen, I thought I had a firm handle on things. I knew my lot in life wasn't what some others had, but I was amazed at how much I'd grown up between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. I was ready to take on the world, never realizing that between sixteen and eighteen I would change even more than I had between thirteen and sixteen. Or that by the time I was twenty-one I would be a completely different person than I'd ever dreamt of being.

"So yes, Janna, everything you've ever dreamed may be lost, but the good news is that you likely would have given up on all that stuff eventually, anyway. The shame of it all is that you never got the chance to make that decision for yourself, and for that I'm sorry."

"I know."

"There are only two things I can do now. I hope you know I'll do everything I can to keep you alive." She nodded. "Good, then let's get back to training."

"What's the other thing?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You said there were two things you could do," she explained, "and one of them is that you'll do what you can to keep me alive. What's the other thing?"

"I can get you some ice cream if you have a good session," he said with a smile. Janna grinned; it was a somewhat empty grin, devoid of true happiness, but it demonstrated that Janna was at least trying to feel better. Xander knew that he had helped lift her mood a little bit for the time being, but she was in the throes of full-blown teen angst. Only time could make that better. _And it's my job to make sure she gets all the time in the world to feel as good about life as possible. Although…_ "So what was that you said about a guy being interested?"

_To be continued………………………………………_


	12. Walking the Beat

Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns pretty much everything within the Angel/Buffy universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**XI – Walking the Beat**

Janna stumbled over a tree root as she hurried through the woods, intent on finishing a quick sweep of the area in time to make it to Rob Goebel's place. She had been so thrilled that Xander made no objection to her going to the party that she had instantly agreed to his one condition – one full sweep of the state park. _A ten-mile route through the dark, and I'm not exactly working with all the time in the world._

The Slayer bent over to re-tie her shoelace when she heard a twig snap somewhere in the darkness ahead. Her breathing immediately stopped as she froze in position, her muscles taut as she strained to hear any additional sound. Suddenly, off to her left, she heard what sounded like an animal – she guessed it was a deer, judging by the amount of noise it made – bolting in the opposite direction from the snapped twig. _So I guess I at least wasn't imagining things._

Janna slowly stood and began to tiptoe though the forest, doing her best to avoid braches, leaves, or anything else that might crunch underfoot as she crept toward whatever it was that awaited her. She finally reached a clearing, and just as she was about to leave the concealment of the thick trees surrounding the clearing, she noticed an almost imperceptible hum in the air. She looked around, wishing she could somehow augment her already enhanced nightvision, and caught sight of the same man she had seen during her encounter with the wolves. He was standing at the opposite edge of the clearing, about twenty-five feet away and just inside the tree line. A wooden staff, about six feet long and so gnarled it almost looked like a partially coiled snake, was extended in his right hand as the man muttered incessantly, his indecipherable chant the source of the hum Janna had detected. _On would think that being attacked by wolves the size of ponies would convince most people to stay the hell out of the woods._

Janna was about to call out to the man and suggest that maybe he heed the lesson he should have learned several nights earlier when his chant ended with a muffled shout. He lifted the staff into the air and thrust it down, driving it into the soft earth. Blue light crackled out in random directions along the ground, reminding Janna of lightning streaking across the sky during summer thunderstorms.

The man took a long step back and began chanting again. The air around the staff began to shimmer slightly, like heat off a roadway; the shimmering began to ripple inches to the side of the staff, the air appearing to grow solid until a large altar coalesced at the far side of the clearing. The man looked at the altar curiously, then looked toward the center of the clearing, as if he had expected it to appear in the center of the area rather than near the edge. _Maybe he summoned the wrong altar,_ Janna thought, surprising herself with the inanity of the idea.

Janna decided to remain quiet and watch, and she crouched silently for almost a half hour as the man used his staff to etch what Janna could only describe as runes into the front and top of the altar. The wooden tip of the staff glowed red whenever it came in contact with the stone surface, while the altar emitted a ghostly blue light wherever the staff touched it. Each of the runes dimmed after a few minutes, though the man was undeterred in completing whatever it was that he was writing. Janna watched for over ten minutes before she realized she should probably be trying to commit the symbols to memory so that Xander might be able to tell her something about what was going on. She had not been a Slayer for very long, but Janna was intelligent enough to know magic when she saw it, and she was fairly certain that altars appearing out of thin air and glowing mystic runes qualified, in her book.

Despite her best efforts, she found she was unable to remember more than three or four runes at a time, and it seemed that every time she committed a new one to memory, she forgot one of the ones that came before. _And of course, that's exactly what Xander warned me would happen last week when I was daydreaming during a runes lesson,_ she reminded herself, unable to decide whether she was more irritated by the fact that Xander had been right, or that there was no way to avoid admitting it. Her frustration had almost grown bad enough for her to lunge at the mystery man in the clearing when the unmistakable howl of a wolf – far-off but still able to send a chill up her spine – cut through the cool night air.

No sooner had the wolf's call died away than the man's muttering resumed. The altar began to fade from sight, almost seeming to melt into the surrounding darkness, and the man walked quickly from the scene, leaving Janna to wonder what she had just seen.

_To be continued………………………………………_


End file.
